Whistle Down the Wind
by Pawthorn
Summary: Songfic based on "Whistle Down the Wind" by Andrew Lloyd Webber. Every signal that you send, until the very end, I will not abandon you, my precious friend.
1. Drown

_Disclaimer: Merlin isn't my property, nor is Whistle Down the Wind._

* * *

><p><em>Whistle down the wind,<em>

_Let your voices carry._

* * *

><p>Arthur had never experienced this kind of despair. Even when Morgana had overthrown Uther, even as he and his few faithful friends had hidden in that cave and struggled to find a way to win the battle that was already lost, even then, he'd been unable to give up. Then, he'd struggled on. Then, he'd had hope. Because then, he'd had Merlin.<p>

His heart sank lower at the thought of his friend. When Merlin was around, it was impossible to lose hope. He had a way of turning situations around and making things better, which made up for his usual annoying personality and general uselessness. Of course, now Arthur knew that Merlin was not useless. As king, he could hardly have appointed anyone less than the greatest sorcerer who ever lived as his Court Magician. And Merlin was insanely powerful and loyal, and Arthur's knights were faithful, and Gwen was a beautiful and gracious queen. And everything had been perfect.

And then Merlin had been taken.

Soon after he took the throne, Arthur had removed the ban on practicing magic. He had been seriously considering doing so for a while, and when Merlin confessed that he was a warlock, Arthur's decision was made. Most people had been happy with the change, or at least tolerant of it. The transition was shaky, but progressing well. Then came Uther's Faithful—a group of fanatics who had taken on his father's name and made him into a martyr for their cause. They started out simply enough, vandalizing the castle and spreading rumors that Merlin had murdered Uther and enchanted Arthur. Then, they escalated to burning the homes of sorcerers and killing anyone who didn't follow their cause. Soon, reports came in that they were kidnapping sorcerers and experimenting on them. They had learned how to bind magic, and they were on their way to discovering how to steal it. Worst of all, they had a potion that could temporarily strip a sorcerer of their identity and put them under the complete control of Uther's Faithful. Many of these poor souls had been sent to attack the people of Camelot, who defended themselves and usually ended up killing the sorcerers. This did nothing to help the tenuous trust between the magic and non-magic citizens.

Arthur, Merlin, and the knights were often out hunting the members of Uther's Faithful. The group was small, no more than two dozen strong, but its followers were zealously devoted and its leaders were smart, ruthless, and good at disappearing. Arthur worried for Merlin on these missions, and for once, he didn't mind saying so. Merlin went after Uther's Faithful with everything he had, and they seemed to be just as eager to destroy him. More than once, Merlin had to be carried home. Arthur knew it was only a matter of time before he didn't come home at all. And Arthur had been right. It just hadn't happened like he had expected.

Hunting. They had been hunting. Arthur laughed harshly at the thought. He should have known better—their hunts never ended well. But he and Merlin hadn't been able to get out of the castle just for enjoyment as friends in so long… it had seemed like a good idea at the time.

An ambush, a blow to the head, and then the horrifying experience of waking and finding himself alone. No battle. No Uther's Faithful. No Merlin.

Arthur had started tracking them immediately, but even then, deep down, he'd known it was hopeless. They had been attacked in the morning, and it was now late afternoon. He wasn't at his best—disoriented and ill from the knock to his head—and Uther's Faithful had made an effort to cover their tracks. He was exhausted, but he had to hurry because he was losing light. He only hoped that the dark clouds that were gathering wouldn't turn to rain and make this task even more impossible.

He pressed on as quickly as he could, trying not to think about whether Merlin was still alive and if he had been hurt and why they had been able to capture him and what plans they had for him. Because Arthur knew they had plans. The ambush had been perfectly executed; it must have taken them months to coordinate it. They knew exactly what they were going to do with Merlin, and Arthur didn't. That scared him more than anything.

Night came swiftly, and with it the rain that had been threatening to fall all day. Arthur had to move much more slowly to find the trail, and soon he lost it. He had no idea which way to go next. His stomach clenched. _No, no, no, NO!_ He looked around frantically, ignoring burning of his eyes. There had to be some sign, _something_ to show him the way. But there was nothing. It was a moonless night, the wind was whipping the rain into his face, and he could barely see his hand in front of his face, let alone the trail.

Arthur forced himself to put emotion aside and think rationally. He could stop for the night and move on in the morning. The storm might not last long, it might not destroy all signs of his quarry. Or he could make his way back to Camelot at first light. If he got horses and gathered the knights, he might be able find the hideout of Uther's Faithful, and Merlin might still be alright, and they might be able to save him.

Might.

_Like Hell._

Arthur gritted his teeth and chose a direction. Away from Camelot, towards Merlin. On he trudged, and on, and on. Branches torn at his exposed skin, and he fell again and again on the uneven ground, bruising himself all over. He welcomed the pain, focused on it. It was easier to deal with than the ache inside.

He tromped on blindly. Eventually, his foot came down on nothing but air. Down the ravine he fell, doing his best to protect his head as he tumbled over rocks, logs, and who knows what else. He landed in an ungainly heap at the bottom.

Arthur didn't think he could get up again. Physically, he was exhausted and in pain, but it was the despair that was really crushing him. He stopped fighting and let the hopelessness fill him. All the emotions he had gone through in this horrible day swelled inside him. Pain, worry, fear, guilt, helplessness, despair, and rage clashed in his chest. He buried his fingers in the dirt, gripping the earth in his shaking fists as he pushed himself to his knees. Everything he was feeling came rushing to the surface in a roar, as he tried to block out the rain and the misery. It was a call, a curse, a prayer, a plea…

"MERLIN!"

* * *

><p><em>Drown out all the rain…<em>


	2. Light

_Light a patch of darkness, treacherous and scary._

* * *

><p>Arthur felt it before he saw it… a familiar presence. It was like a voice calling from far away, like the warmth of the sun on his shoulders, like a dream that can't quite be recalled upon waking. He whipped his head around, searching for the source, but all he could see were the dimly lit rocks, trees, logs…<p>

_Hang on a minute…_

He could see. Moments before the night had been wretchedly, impossible dark. Now, there was a faint glow illuminating his surroundings, growing stronger every second. Could it be the dawn? But no, though it felt like he had been walking forever, not enough time had passed. Besides, this light wasn't the pale gold of sunrise. It was blue. Blue, but warm…

And very familiar.

He knew what it was before he caught sight of it drifting through the trees—a glowing orb swirling with silver and blue. He had seen it before, long ago, as he clung helplessly to the wall of a cave, trying to save a friend. Now, as it had then, it seemed to speak to him. In the cave, he had almost heard it whisper, _Hurry, Arthur. Follow the light. _ Now, it seemed to say, _You dollop-head, what are you doing on the ground?_

Arthur scrambled to his feet, hope rising in him once more. Merlin was still alive, still with him, ready to help. If Merlin was still trying, Arthur could too. The light drifted forward, _Well, don't just stand there. Come on this way if you insist on rescuing me. Or do I have to get myself out of this, and then find a way to save you too, as usual?_

That made Arthur smile. He set off after the light, knowing his friend wouldn't lead him astray.


	3. Whisper

_Howl at the stars. Whisper while you're sleeping._

* * *

><p>Arthur didn't know how long he walked after the light. The woods seemed endless and unchanging. The dawn never came. On and on through total blackness he walked. Merlin's light kept going faster and faster. Arthur didn't want to think about what that meant. Was Merlin running out of time? The light was far ahead of him now.<p>

"Merlin! Wait! Slow down!" He tried to yell, but the words stuck in his throat. He could barely hear himself. He gritted his teeth and pushed his acing muscles harder, but no matter how hard he tried, he seemed to be getting slower and slower. The light moved on, away through the darkness.

"Stop!" His plea came out as a pathetic croak. The light was dipping in and out of view. Soon, he could only see a faint glow. Then, it was gone, and he was alone in the darkness.

* * *

><p>"<em>NO!<em>"

Arthur woke to the sound of his own scream. He blinked rapidly, trying to regain his grip on reality. First, he saw the stars above him, slowly being revealed as the storm clouds cleared. He sat up quickly. Merlin's light bobbed steadily nearby, giving off a sympathetic and reassuring aura.

Arthur remembered now. It had been a few hours before dawn, as far as he could tell, when Merlin's light had stopped suddenly. At first, Arthur thought something was wrong, but then he had sensed phrases like, _Okay, prat, lie down before you fall down,_ _Can't rescue me if you're exhausted,_ and_ Nearly there,_ coming from the light_._ He had been reluctant to stop, but he could see that Merlin wasn't going to lead him on until he had.

It was a dream. Merlin's light hadn't left him behind. It was still with him. Merlin was still with him.

For now…

He shut his eyes and clenched his jaw as the sorrow he'd felt in his dream threatened to overwhelm him again. He was startled by the feel of someone's hand on his shoulder. He looked up. There was Merlin's light beside him, glowing steadily, whispering to him.

_I'm not going anywhere._

Arthur swallowed, and nodded jerkily.

_Ready?_

"Lead the way," Arthur said, rising to his feet, "Idiot."

He could almost hear his friend's answering laughter.

* * *

><p><em>I'll be there to hold you. I'll be there to stop the chills and all the weeping.<em>


	4. Clear

_Make it clear and strong, so the whole night long,_

_Every signal that you send, until the very end…_

* * *

><p>Merlin hadn't been lying when he said the hideout wasn't far. Dawn was just beginning to light the sky when they came to the cave. Arthur could see a group of five or six figures gathered around a fire just outside the entrance.<p>

His only real option was to attack. He hesitated only a moment, and then threw himself into the firelight, killing as quickly and quietly as he could. His foes were taken completely by surprise, and fell silently to the ground. He hurried to enter the cave.

Suddenly, there was a blade at his throat.

"Not so fast," a gruff voice said. Arthur cursed his carelessness. He had been so intent on getting to Merlin that he had missed one of the guards. He turned slowly to face the man who held him at sword-point.

"King Arthur," the man leered, "This is a pleasant—"

_WHOOSH!_

There was a bright flash of light and Arthur's assailant went flying. He struck a distant tree and fell to the ground, unmoving. Merlin's light bobbed in his place, somehow looking pleased with itself. But it also looked significantly dimmer, and Arthur had a very good guess as to why.

He wanted to tell Merlin that he could've taken care of himself, that Merlin didn't need to waste his energy. But Arthur knew that Merlin didn't need his pride or his pestering. So instead he said what Merlin deserved to hear.

"Thanks."

_Anytime._ The whisper was definitely fainter than before, but the response still made Arthur smile. Because it was absolutely true.

Glancing at Merlin's light, he squared his shoulders and entered the cave.

* * *

><p><em>I will not abandon you, my precious friend.<em>


	5. Flare

_So try and stem the tide. Then, you'll raise a banner._

* * *

><p>Arthur's progress through the cave was not nearly as successful as his skirmish at the entrance. Alarms were shouted, traps were laid, and small groups were organized to attack him. No one he fought was particularly skilled, but they were many, and he was not at his best. He wouldn't have made it through at all if it wasn't for Merlin's light, which sprang traps before he reached them, illuminated his way, and unnerved his opponents.<p>

Still, his pace was painfully slow, and he could tell that the whole situation was set up to buy time. For what, he didn't know, and he tried not to think about. As long as Merlin's light was still beside him, he still had time.

Soon, Arthur came to an area that seemed more like a room than the endless tunnels he had already traveled. There were supplies, blankets, food, a recently extinguished fire, and… a back tunnel.

Arthur cursed and ran for the passage, Merlin's light just ahead of him. He was certain that Merlin had been held in that room. If that was so, this tunnel probably led—yes, he could see daylight ahead—this tunnel led outside and to escape for those he was pursuing.

He continued running as he left the cave—Merlin's light still guiding him. It was raining again, storm clouds had rolled in and the forest was dim and dismal.

Then, Merlin's light stopped. It flickered and began to fade.

"No!" Arthur cried, reaching for the orb, but it vanished before his eyes.

He stood blinking, trying to process what had just happened, denying what it must mean. The rain poured down on him. The darkness grew.

And Merlin was gone.

Arthur fell to his knees and shut his eyes. Merlin couldn't be gone, not now. He had been so close! So close—

Suddenly, there was a sound—like a thunder, like a bell, like a drum—and he open his eyes. Not far off, a column of light was stretched to the sky. It was pulsing, burning brighter than anything he had seen before. Hope blazed in his chest just as brightly.

"Hold on Merlin."

* * *

><p><em>Send a flare up in the sky.<em>


	6. Burn

_Try to burn a torch, and try to build a bonfire._

* * *

><p>Arthur sprinted through the trees as quickly as he could. Soon he heard panicked voices up ahead.<p>

"…gave him the full dose! He should be out for another day, he shouldn't be able to do this!"

"He's not human—"

"We can't carry him like this!"

"—too powerful to do anything with—"

"He's no use to us anyway, let's just kill him!"

Arthur burst into the clearing, fueled by hope and rage. There was baggage strewn about, a cart, and a number of people moving about frantically, but what really caught his eye was the _glowing_ figure on the ground. Arthur had to put that aside for the moment and deal with the half dozen very confused men just realizing he was there.

It was a bit anticlimactic and remarkably easy to dispatch the men around Merlin. They were half-blinded, unprepared, and very shaken up. Arthur knew he should feel guilty for cutting these men down where they stood, that he should hesitate to kill unarmed opponents. All he felt was satisfaction. Soon they were dead, and Arthur was finally kneeling beside his friend.

"Merlin?" he said, squinting down at his friend. He touched Merlin's shoulder, and immediately the glow diminished, and Merlin was Merlin again. Arthur knew his friend was likely injured, but he wanted to get him as far away from that place as he could. He threw Merlin over his shoulder and started walking toward Camelot.

His task all but completed, Arthur let his mind phase out. He only stopped walking when he realized it was getting dark. He gently laid Merlin down. From the smell coming from him and from what the men holding him had said, Arthur guessed that Merlin had been drugged. His friend hadn't stirred, and he was cold. Arthur immediately set to work gathering wood for a fire, but he was careful to keep Merlin in sight. He couldn't believe that only yesterday morning, they had been enjoying a hunt together. They had been to hell and back since then. Well, almost back…

The fire was now blazing, and Arthur moved the warlock as close to it as he thought was safe. He checked Merlin over for injuries, finding far too many bruises and scrapes, a swollen ankle, and a rather nasty bump on his head. But what he found when he pulled back Merlin's sleeve made him feel physically ill. Up and down the warlock's arms, strange symbols had been carved. Arthur let his anger build and then ebb. He reminded himself that Uther's Faithful hadn't been able to use Merlin, and he had killed enough of them for one day. If more remained he, his knights, and Merlin would find them and stop them. He only hoped Merlin wouldn't remember much of what Uther's Faithful had done to him. Arthur set to work bandaging the warlock's wounds. Thankfully, he was starting to warm up and regain what little color he had. Arthur sighed, gave Merlin's shoulder a squeeze, and made his way over to a nearby tree. He sat at its base and leaned back, keeping watch over his friend into the night.


	7. Always

_Every signal that you send, until the very end, I'm there._

* * *

><p>He was floating in a sea of darkness. This was very odd, since he also felt incredibly heavy. Shouldn't he be sinking into the darkness? Well, that didn't sound very appealing. Time to get out of here—wherever "here" was—before the universe remembered that heavy things can't float and decided to drown him. Oh, wait, the darkness was less of a sea now, more of a wall and… <em>Ugh, what did I let Gwaine talk me into this time?<em> Pain all over, especially in his head, and his magic felt _tired_. Why would that be? And he hadn't been with Gwaine at all; he'd been with—

An attack, Uther's Faithful, drugged, guiding, danger, pain, leading, _burning—_

"Arthur!" Oh, that was pathetic, more of a squeak than a shout. Merlin forced his eyelids open with considerable effort, only to slam them closed again against the glare of the firelight. He tried opening his eyes again, gently this time, and slowly sat up. Fighting the dizziness and nausea, he squinted at his surroundings. Soon, his eyes landed on a slouched figure a few feet away, and he smiled. He debated whether or not he should wake his King. He guessed that Arthur could use the rest. However, judging by his friend's fitful movements and grimace of fear and pain even while asleep, it seemed Arthur needed to talk more.

"Oy, Prat," Merlin said in a much stronger voice. Arthur jumped and looked around wildly. When his eyes landed on Merlin, he froze. "Sleeping on the job again, are we?" Merlin smirked.

Arthur blinked once. Twice. Then a small frown lit his face, "I'm sorry, but which of us has done nothing but sleep these past two days?"

"Nothing but sleep?" Merlin protested, "Just because I'm better at leading a rescue unconscious than you are awake—"

"Well, that's what I keep you around for, isn't it?" Arthur smirked. Merlin thought he looked a little less tense, but the fear and anxiety were still there, in his eyes as the smile slid from his face. "Merlin, how much do you remember?"

"I clearly remember saving your sorry—"

"You know what I mean." Arthur gave him a look that allowed no lies, no hiding under grins and jokes and clumsiness.

Merlin sighed, "I'm telling the truth, Arthur. I knew they had me, that they were…" His eyes became distant and he glanced down at his injured arms. Then he looked up, meeting Arthur's eyes. "But I also knew they couldn't use me. So, I took myself away from there. I went back where… back where I belong."

Arthur held his gaze, searching for any hint of deception or evasion. Satisfied when he found none, he simply nodded. The two sat in silence for a few moments.

"We should probably try to sleep," Merlin said, "We've got a long trek home tomorrow."

"Home," Arthur sighed, "Alright." He moved away from his seat underneath the tree to lie by the fire near Merlin.

They both shifted and settled in to sleep. Just before he drifted off, Merlin sat up and looked over at his King once more.

"Arthur," he said. He waited until his friend met his eyes. "Thank you."

"You too." Arthur smiled, "Get some rest."

* * *

><p><em>So whistle down the wind, for I have always been right there<em>.

The End

* * *

><p><em>That's it! Thanks so much to my reviewers. You guys rock! Keep your eye out for future stories :)<em>


End file.
